It’s just a picture—a shot of me in uniform, crouching beside my partner, Duke, my German Shepherd. The sunset painted the sky, but beneath that calm, things were anything but.
The radio crackled with a call—stolen vehicle, armed suspects, high-speed pursuit heading toward us. Duke knew it. His ears perked, muscles tight, waiting for my signal.
The screech of tires, the pounding of my boots. Duke surged ahead, and we were off.
I don’t know why I took that picture. Maybe part of me knew this would be big.
Adrenaline surged as we raced toward the stolen car. The radio buzzed with updates. Duke stayed focused, nose twitching, sensing what I couldn’t.
We turned onto a side street, the stolen car just ahead. It roared past, weaving through traffic. As we neared an intersection, Duke suddenly bolted down an alley. I hesitated but followed his lead.
At the end of the alley, I found a young man crouched behind crates, eyes wide with fear. Before I could speak, Duke had already positioned himself protectively by his side.
